


In My Arms

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Boys In Love, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Consent, First Time, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Merlin is a Little Shit (Merlin), POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Top Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Top Arthur Pendragon/Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Virgin Merlin (Merlin), Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Worried Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29885565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: Arthur carries the weight of a kingdom upon his shoulders. In his arms, though, the weight of a servant boy eases his every burden. Under magic's watchful eye, Arthur proves that he is worthy of a love only destiny could weave.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 156





	In My Arms

**Author's Note:**

> So, this sappy, fluffy, soft purge of emotion is actually a sequel, taking place immediately after [In My Veins.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676463) You don’t need to read that fic to understand this fic, but if you like this one, then you’ll probably enjoy that one as well. Thanks for reading! Feel free to feed the author with comments and kudos.

Merlin weighs practically nothing.

It is the first thing Arthur notices as he lifts the panting servant boy against the latched door of his chambers by his bottom, those long legs encircling his waist like a belt made of the softest leather, and kisses him until he gasps for air. 

Merlin weighs less than any of the knights Arthur has trained on the field, but more than a suit of armor. He’s all angles, lean muscle, and heat. With the boney hips and the spine so easily palpated beneath soft skin, he resembles the younger women and men that Arthur casually bedded in his youth. 

Never like this, though. No, this sort of wrestling only feels right with this particular boy.

Fingers piece through Arthur’s hair, tugging and smoothing in turn, and send sparks through his every nerve. They part only for breath, their chests colliding with each inhale, and he can still taste the salt that Merlin had been crying only minutes before. Then Merlin tenses, sending a signal that Arthur’s groin wishes to ignore, but his heart would never.

Arthur pulls back just enough to meet those glassy, cerulean eyes. Subtle, pink blotches cover Merlin’s cheeks where Arthur’s stubble chafes. Nothing, nothing, has ever turned Arthur on so intensely. 

“Is this alright, Merlin?” Is that his voice? It’s so hoarse and _beseeching._

Merlin takes so long to answer, too long. Arthur nearly declares the moment lost. Then, he finally parts those pink, tempting lips and whispers.

“My magic, I don’t know how it will react.” 

Arthur drags a finger over that pouty bottom lip, biting his own to share the sensation, and struggles to read his intent until his own vision blurs. 

“What do you mean, _react?_ Don’t you control it?” 

Merlin’s tongue meets his finger only briefly, but the sensation sends another wave of lust straight down, down, down. Arthur has known that he wants to do these things to this boy for longer than he can remember but now he understands the difference between knowing and _knowing._

“Mostly, yes. Sometimes, though, when I’m _distracted,_ it responds.” 

Arthur can’t drag his attention away from the corner of Merlin’s lip, the little dimple where he’s already placed so many kisses. He speaks to it, his heart pounding with hopeful anticipation. 

“How has it responded before?” 

Merlin adjusts, rubbing their groins together and causing them both to sigh involuntarily and rather dramatically. 

“Ah, well there’s never been a before…before you.” 

Arthur has suspected, deep down, that Merlin does not have the same sort of experience. Has felt it in his clumsy touches and the flush of his cheeks. To have it declared, though, well that is enough for him to need a moment. He leans in, forcing the door to take just a small amount of Merlin’s meager weight so that he can free one hand and run it through his own, finger-combed hair. 

“Right then, how has it reacted to _other_ distractions?” 

Merlin bites his lip, seemingly deciding what to tell Arthur and what to hide. It jabs at his heart a bit, that the warlock still does not feel safe revealing it all when they’re about to do the most intimate act possible between two men. 

“Well, when I’m in pain, it protects me. Or, if you’re hurt, it protects you.” He pauses, breathes in the space between, seemingly arms himself against Arthur’s reaction. “Sometimes people get hurt when it protects us.” 

The citadel is hardly ever quiet, but now Arthur can hear every mouse scurrying along the corridor, the uneven breaths of the guards as they hold their posts, and the wind rattling the shudder at the far end. This moment feels important, vital, life changing. 

He’s still holding Merlin’s weight and finally feeling its heaviness. 

“Who gets hurt, Merlin?” 

Those eyes shine, burrow deep into Arthur’s, begging for something. He tightens his grip around Merlin’s bottom, securing him, answering his question and urging trust in return. 

“Anyone who it thinks is causing the harm. Mostly bandits, villains, bad people, the occasional magical creature with three heads and a horned tail.” 

A stone drops from Arthur’s stomach and he sighs into a lighter, teasing smile. 

“Do you think I’m going to cause you harm, idiot?” He brings his free hand up to Merlin’s face, traces that dimple. “I’d never. _This_ is the exact opposite of pain. If anything, your magic should rejoice, shower us with flower petals and a starry-eyed tune.” 

That earns a Merlin smile and a playful raise of his eyebrows. He relaxes in Arthur’s unwavering hold. 

“Never knew you were such a romantic. Gone soft, have you?” 

Arthur scoffs and fakes his own abhorrence. “Hardly.” Then he studies the door’s woodgrain a bit too intensely. “I’m simply appealing to your virginal heartstrings. I would like to make it to the bed before sunrise, idiot.”

“Ah.” Merlin adjusts himself tauntingly against Arthur’s growing member and tilts his head in that way that exposes his pale, unmarred neck. Arthur practically growls at the tease. “You can drop me at any time, you know. This can’t be healthy for your aging back.” 

He laughs, warms, reaffirms his hold. “Please, I could carry you around all day. Does Gaius even feed you? Should I toss him in the dungeons for hoarding all the bread?”

Merlin studies Arthur, his face creased in calculation, finding the perfect retort. Even the mice stop their nibbling to listen in. Arthur waits in suspense, feeling the nervous tightness in Merlin’s muscles slowly relax and taking pride in the fact that it’s he who possesses this innate ability to drag the boy out of the depths of unease.

“Hah, Gaius? Do you forget that I’m the one who serves your meals? I’m surprised there’s any bread left in the kingdom due to your vigorous appetite.” 

“Vigorous, you say?” 

Arthur presses Merlin into the doorframe, the wood creaking at the added effort. They’re touching from forehead to groin now and even Merlin gasps, the corners of his lips curled up, and widens his eyes. His shirt rides up, exposing pale, warm skin to Arthur’s thumb. He caresses, teases, a plethora of pleasurable sensations jumping between their connected flesh. 

“I’ll show you vigorous.” He doesn’t, though, not yet. First, he kisses the boy slowly, memorizing every crack in his lips. Then he snakes his hand beneath the shirt, warms the chilled lower back, presses his fingertips into the spaces between jutting vertebrae, and speaks to the magic within. “I’ll make you feel good. I’ll ensure that you have no pain. You’re safe in my arms and I promise that neither of us will need protecting tonight.” 

Merlin chases Arthur’s lips, but the prince pulls back with a rare, serious purse of his lips. It occurs to him that they never speak plainly and that such an important action requires a rare exception. He catches Merlin’s attention and raises his chin to force their eyes to meet.

“Merlin, you know we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. If you’d rather wait, or take it slow, I’d understand. You set the pace in this bed.” 

Merlin smooths down blonde fringe, his face so soft and precious that Arthur’s chest tightens.

“Don’t be such a petticoat, Arthur. I’ve wanted this for longer than you can imagine. I trust you with my life and my body.” He says between kisses. Then he raises eyes so wet and fearful that Arthur feels like he’s drowning. “I just, don’t want you to be upset if the furniture levitates or the candles burn out or...” Merlin squeezes his legs tighter around Arthur’s waist and it ignites his every protective instinct. “I…don’t want you to change your mind about me.” 

There it is- the weight sitting so heavily on Merlin’s shoulders. Arthur carries it easily, happily taking it onto his own back. 

_”Idiot._ Is that what has you so worried?” He hugs Merlin close, nosing at his left ear and taking in the strong scent of spices and char still present in his hair after a day of serving in the kitchens. “Hours. I sat here for hours after learning of your magic and contemplated where I fit into your world. If I still could. It took me that long because you know I don’t make decisions lightly. At the end of those hours I knew, without a doubt, that I could not bear to lose you. I could not bear the idea of you _with_ anyone else. Whatever happens, however your magic responds, I’ll be with you and everything will be fine.” 

Suddenly, Merlin feels lighter in his arms. The air thins when boney fingers pull him in by the hair at his nape and the boy kisses him with so much _need_ that it has his head spinning. He doesn’t even realize that Merlin has given his full weight over to his prince until it’s so generously filling his arms, leaving no space between. 

“Bed. Now. Prat.” The servant manages the commands between gasps. Arthur is happy to oblige, carrying him to the nest of soft, warm blankets. He lays that body down so carefully, using every delicate touch and deliberate grip as proof to Merlin’s magic that this boy is not in danger of harm. His hands never leave the ivory skin, tracing patterns over his ribs and tickling him playfully to ease the transition from clothed to bare, play to foreplay. 

It’s when Merlin’s mouth is wide with laughter that Arthur claims him. Merlin inhales, grips Arthur’s biceps, and turns eyes so unfocused with surprise and pleasure to Arthur just as they flash in the most stunning shade of gold. In that moment, Arthur loses his breath.

The candles do flicker. The bed levitates and, yes, even rose petals appear in a downpour from nowhere that causes Merlin to both giggle and scowl when they block his path to Arthur’s lips. Through it all, Arthur holds him close and studies every wrinkle of his nose or hitch of his breath in search of any discomfort. Finding none. In those final moments, when Arthur is so close to tumbling from the edge, a kinetic, protective warmth folds around their conjoined bodies and then Merlin smiles through their fall.

After, just as the sun peeks through the shudder, Arthur accepts Merlin’s boneless weight upon his chest and removes petals from his messy, raven hair. Merlin stretches gangly limbs over Arthur teasingly and Arthur whispers a jest into his adorable ear.

“Flowers, Merlin? Now who’s gone soft?” 

“You love flowers, prat. Don’t deny it.” 

He finds that he cannot. 

They’re a pile of pale skin upon soft sheets, dotted in silken red. It’s all calm and peaceful when Merlin falls asleep. Arthur, his eyelids heavy, sends a silent thank you to Merlin’s magic for keeping watch over his lover while he rests.

Arthur’s last thought before nothing at all is how perfectly Merlin fits, how his meager weight eases instead of loads. 

How loving him is no burden to bear.


End file.
